


Make My Heart Your Home

by AppleTaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Little Bit of Humor, Derek is angsty because when is he not, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, I'll update tags when I post the second chapter, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post High School, Sort Of, Stiles is An Adult, but he gets a happy ending :), first half is Stiles POV second half is Derek POV, mix tapes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleTaters/pseuds/AppleTaters
Summary: “God, even your recommendations are sad,” Stiles said, poking around on Derek’s Spotify.He tapped over to Derek’s playlists and scrolled down a little, curiosity getting the better of him. They all had pretty typical, descriptive names- “Workout”, “Reading”, etc. Boring.Then Stiles saw one playlist that made him pause.The name was simply, “Thinking about him”.xStiles sees a playlist of love songs on Derek's phone and assumes it's for someone else, leading to some interesting revelations about his own feelings for the alpha
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Make My Heart Your Home

**Author's Note:**

> I know canonically Derek probably listens to Linkin Park, but in my head he's an indie king. I pictured them listening to Bon Iver in the car.  
> The title was inspired by Autoclave by The Mountain Goats, a song I think Derek would identify with because he's a self-deprecating fool.  
> This entire fic was inspired by a playlist I made, originally titled "Derek Hale's Secret Pining Playlist" but I didn't think that title was in-character for Derek lmao (though it totally would be for Stiles). It's here if you want to listen: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4JgHVY85LDsu6d78RnIPTT?si=GWKSWFWDRZmIfclPLsHfcg

“Derek, dude, why is all your music so _ sad _ ?” Stiles exclaimed as yet another song featuring an acoustic guitar and a whiny vocalist (who  _ really _ needed to tone it down on the reverb) came over the car speakers.

“Maybe you’d crack a smile more often if you didn’t listen to this crap,” he continued, watching a gaggle of umbrella-wielding pedestrians scurry across the street, dramatically lit by the headlights of Derek’s camaro.

“It’s not  _ crap _ ,” Derek sighed, “and I thought you agreed I’ve been getting better about the whole  _ polite smiling  _ thing.”

Stiles frowned over at the werewolf in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t mean fake smiles, holy shit, Derek,” Stiles said, his hands moving of their own accord as he spoke, as they tended to do when he was agitated.

“I mean a real, genuine,  _ smile _ . You know, that thing that’s a universal indicator of human happiness? You should try that sometime.”

“Thanks so much for the advice,” Derek sneered, “I never realized I should just try  _ being happy _ . That would probably fix everything that’s ever gone wrong in my life.”

Stiles subtly rolled his eyes, but he was determined not to raise to the bait. He’d been trying to fight less with Scott’s alpha, for the sake of  _ pack unity _ or whatever. He shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, he knew, but something about Derek just got under his skin more than anyone else. Just being in the older man’s presence made Stiles’ body flush with anger, and then when Derek actually opened his mouth, well, let’s just say Stiles was prone to outbursts.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Stiles muttered just as the light turned green, and reached into the center console for Derek’s phone.

“What are you doing?” the werewolf protested, making a blind grab for his phone, but Stiles leaned into the passenger side window, shielding it with his body.

“I’m putting on some music that doesn’t make me want to just lie on the floor and wait for my body to be consumed by rats,” Stiles said, searching for the Spotify app.

“This is an invasion of privacy!” Derek cried, poking at Stiles’ ribs as he drove one-handed.

“Relax, dude,” Stiles said as he finally found the little green circle he’d been looking for, “I’m not actually interested in reading whatever it is you and Boyd are always texting each other during pack meetings.”

Derek sighed, not sounding convinced, but put both hands back on the steering wheel.

“God, even your recommendations are sad,” Stiles said, poking around on Derek’s Spotify.

He tapped over to Derek’s playlists and scrolled down a little, curiosity getting the better of him. They all had pretty typical, descriptive names- “Workout”, “Reading”, etc. Boring.

Then Stiles saw one playlist that made him pause.

The name was simply, “Thinking about him”.

He peered over at Derek, making sure the other man’s eyes were firmly on the road, and opened the curiously-titled playlist.

The track list was mostly unfamiliar to Stiles, but he recognized a song here and there, including, hilariously,  _ I Caught Myself _ by Paramore. He wouldn’t have pegged Derek for a Twilight fan.

As he scrolled down what was very clearly a playlist of love songs, a peculiar and uncomfortable feeling swelled in Stiles’ chest. He hurriedly tapped over to the search bar, but for the life of him he couldn't think of a single song he wanted to hear. 

“Never mind,” Stiles muttered, and deposited Derek’s phone back in the center console, “this is fine.”

Derek glanced over, his eyebrows knitted together, but didn't comment on the younger man’s sudden change in mood. For once, Stiles was happy to sit in silence and stare out the car window, trying to will down the confusing knot of emotion that had formed in his stomach. 

After what felt like an eternity, Derek pulled over in front of Stiles’ apartment building. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Stiles said as he grabbed his backpack from the floor by his feet. 

“No problem,” Derek said quietly. 

Without looking at the other man, Stiles opened the passenger door and clambered out onto the sidewalk. He shut the door behind him with a slam and hurried through the persistent drizzle towards the promised warmth of home, not looking back when he heard the roar of the Camaro’s engine as Derek pulled away. 

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and crisp, the previous night's rain leaving a thin layer of frost on the car windshields and green lawns of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles stared morosely out his kitchen window at the fog, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. The uncomfortable feeling from last night had persisted, and he had struggled to fall asleep, his mind plagued with visions of Derek embracing a faceless, formless man. 

The alpha had been so much better about sharing with the pack in recent years, and now he suddenly had a secret boyfriend? That must be what bothered Stiles- the secrecy. Being the only human in a pack full of supernatural creatures was hard enough without crucial information being withheld from him. 

Satisfied with this conclusion, Stiles grabbed his phone off the counter and called Scott.

“This better be important,” Scott’s tired voice came through the speaker.

“Did you know Derek has a boyfriend?” Stiles said in a rush.

“What?” Scott cried, sounding almost as scandalized as Stiles felt. 

“Derek has a… but…” Scott said, bewildered, “well, who is it?”

“I don't know,” Stiles confessed, biting his thumb nail anxiously.

Scott cursed softly.

“How long has it been going on?” he asked.

“Don't know that either,” Stiles answered, and began pacing back and forth in the small space of his cramped kitchen. 

“Well, what  _ do _ you know, Stiles?” Scott asked, sounding skeptical.

“And how do you know? Did he tell you?”

“Not exactly,” Stiles hedged.

“What exactly did he say?” Scott demanded, sounding tired.

“He didn't say anything,” Stiles frowned, “I just saw something on his phone.”

“Why were you- nevermind,” Scott sighed, “what did you see?”

“Well, I was trying to change the song on Spotify because I was tired of Derek’s depressing hipster music- seriously, has the guy ever listened to Top 40 in his entire life? I feel like he came out of the womb with little baby headphones on, blasting Radiohead-” 

“Stiles!” Scott interrupted, “what did you  _ see? _ ”

“Right, right, sorry,” Stiles muttered, trying to calm his racing thoughts, “so anyway, I was looking at his playlists and he had one called ‘ _ Thinking about him’ _ .”

He paused for dramatic effect. 

“It was totally a playlist of love songs!” he shouted, his pacing becoming more agitated.

Scott started laughing.

“What? What about that is funny, Scott?” Stiles snapped, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Derek is hiding things from us again, and it majorly pisses me off, dude.”

“Uh huh,” Scott mocked, “I’m sure that's why you called me at- jesus- six in the morning on a Saturday to complain.”

“It is!” Stiles protested.

“What else would it be?” 

Scott was silent for a beat.

“Listen, Stiles, I know getting over Lydia was hard for you, but you cannot be  _ that  _ emotionally repressed.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stiles asked, feeling like he'd lost control of this conversation. 

“Oh, jeez,” Scott muttered, “Okay, you know what, I’m coming over. I don't want to have this conversation over the phone.”

“Uh, okay?” Stiles said hesitantly.

“You’re makin’ me nervous, buddy.” 

“It's fine, don't worry,” Scott lied, “I’ll be there in ten.”

He hung up.

Stiles looked, dumbfounded, down at his phone. Well, that had  _ not _ gone as expected.

* * *

Eventually, there was a knock on Stiles’ front door. He scrambled up from the kitchen table and wrenched it open. 

“Hey,” Scott said casually, like he hadn't left Stiles to turn into a nervous wreck over the past ten minutes.

“So what the hell did you mean by-” Stiles began, but Scott interrupted him with a shushing noise.

“What-” he tried again.

“Sshhhh,” the werewolf opened the cabinet to grab a mug.

“I’ve been awake for ten whole minutes and haven't had any coffee,” Scott whined, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring himself a generous serving of the dark, steaming liquid.

“Caffeine doesn't even affect you, Scott,” Stiles said, agitated. “your freaky werewolf system just-”

“Have you never heard of the placebo effect?” Scott asked with a smirk, and slurped at his coffee.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but realized this would be a weird hill to die on, given the circumstances. 

“Fine,” he said, dropping back into his vacated chair at the kitchen table, “now that you've got your completely pointless liquid stimulant, can you please explain what you were talking about earlier?” 

Scott sighed and lowered himself into the chair opposite Stiles. 

“So, like I said, I know getting over Lydia was hard on you,” he said, his eyes fixed on the table, “but I didn't realize that you didn't even know…”

“Didn't know  _ what? _ ” Stiles demanded.

Scott groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked up and met his friend’s eyes.

“You’re in love with Derek,” Scott said simply.

Stiles felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. And he'd actually been punched in the stomach quite a few times over the past six years, so he knew exactly how it felt. 

“Stiles, say something,” Scott said after a moment, sounding worried.

Stiles just stared at him in silence, unable to form a coherent thought beyond a constant stream of curse words. 

He didn't bother to deny it, even in his own head. It made too much sense; every lingering glance, every impassioned argument over something ultimately inconsequential, every time Derek shoved him against a wall and Stiles had been left with a feeling like an electric current pulsing through his body. He had chalked it up to annoyance, anger, outright dislike, but the truth was far more unpleasant. 

“Holy shit,” he croaked finally, and dropped his head into his hands.

“There, there,” Scott mumbled, and patted his shoulder awkwardly. 

“I’m so fucked,” Stiles moaned, “I am totally gone over a guy who doesn't even give me a second thought, oh  _ god.” _

Scott cleared his throat, and began fiddling with his coffee mug.

“Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly…” he said quietly, eyes fixed resolutely on the wall behind Stiles’ head. 

“Scott,” Stiles growled, “I’m done being completely in the dark about my  _ own life _ . If there's something else going on, you better tell me  _ right now  _ or I swear to god I’ll put your Pokémon cards down the garbage disposal.”

Scott groaned and tipped his head back for a moment, as if weighing his options.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, “but you didn't hear this from me, alright?”

Stiles nodded wordlessly, and Scott sighed.

“I think that playlist on Derek’s phone... well, I’m pretty sure I know who it's about.” 

“Who?” Stiles asked, his heart in his throat and his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Uh, oh jeez,” Scott muttered, “Derek made me swear not to tell…”

“Scott!” Stiles shouted.

“Pokémon cards! I’ll do it! Even the holographic Charizard!”

Scott squirmed in his chair.

“Okay, it's…” he began, his face scrunched up in discomfort as he directly disobeyed his alpha, “it's you.”

“Me?” Stiles gasped, not believing his ears.

“Yeah, Stiles,” Scott sighed, “it’s you. Derek's been crazy about you for years, but he didn't want you to know for some reason.”

“Why the fuck not?” Stiles demanded.

“I don't know!” Scott cried.

“Look,” he said, finally meeting Stiles’ eyes, “all I know is, when you guys are together, the smell coming off the both of you is almost unbearable.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open.

“You can  _ smell _ it?”

“Yeah,” Scott grimaced, “it's disgusting.”

“Wait, wait,” Stiles said, his hands gesticulating violently, “does that mean  _ he  _ can smell it?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, wrapping his hands around his rapidly cooling mug of coffee.

“Then why-”

“I don't know, okay?” Scott whined.

“Derek’s mind is a mystery on the best of days. I have no idea why he didn't make a move sooner. Maybe he thought you were too good for him-”

Stiles scoffed.

“-or that he's too dangerous, I don't know!”

Stiles shook his head, feeling like he might go into shock from all these revelations. It wasn't even seven A.M. and his whole world had been rocked.

“That does sound like his usual self-deprecating bullshit,” he admitted. 

Scott huffed a humorless laugh.

“Yeah.”

“So everyone in the pack knew that Derek and I are sprung on each other, except me?” Stiles clarified.

Scott winced, and nodded wordlessly. 

Stiles sat back in his chair and took a deep breath, trying to process his emotions. He and Scott locked eyes across the table, the tension of the last few minutes hanging in the air between them.

There was only one question left on Stiles’ mind, now.

“So what do I do?”


End file.
